


a haiku for you

by mangemouth



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Joui War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangemouth/pseuds/mangemouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A drabble for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ginzura/15187.html">day five</a> ginzura advent prompt.</p>
    </blockquote>





	a haiku for you

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble for the [day five](http://community.livejournal.com/ginzura/15187.html) ginzura advent prompt.

“Let me see yours,” says Zura, leaning across the short desk. Gintoki jumps enough to send the sword in his armpit clattering to the side.

“No,” he snaps, covering his ink-stained paper. “It’s not finished yet.”

“You’re taking a long time,” the taller boy says blankly, with his usual bluntness. “Everyone else is almost done.”

“I don’t care! Shut up!”

Takasugi turns around at the outburst. “Tch, he barely knows how to write. How do you expect him to write poetry?”

The permed boy flushes with indignation. “I can write,” he mutters fiercely, and it’s mostly true. Sensei has been patient, teaching him kanji after kanji from weekly Shounen Jump. Takasugi’s just an asshole. He’s like Vegeta. Nobody likes Vegeta.

“I did three,” Vegetakasugi boasts, waving his sheet in Zura’s direction. Gintoki scowls as the other boy inches closer to Takasugi’s desk, grip on his own fude tightening. Takasugi’s haiku probably suck. Zura’s an idiot, but he’s smarter than _that_ piece of shit. He won’t be fooled by some crappy -

“Wow,” says Zura. “These are really good.”

“Poetry’s for stupid girls anyway,” growls Gintoki, before Takasugi can stop grinning smugly and respond. He’s so angry, and he doesn’t know why, because he doesn’t care about poetry, or stupid asshole Takasugi, or this useless school. “That’s why you like them. Because you’re a stupid girl.”

Zura’s cheeks puff up. “No I’m _not!_ ”

“Why do you even bother with him?” Takasugi mumbles disparagingly, turning back around. “He can barely write.”

“ _You can barely **wipe** , you ass-faced bastard!_” shouts Gintoki, throwing his fude at the back of Takasugi’s head. Sensei’s fan embeds itself into Gintoki’s face from clear across the room.

-+-+-+-

“You ‘wake?” Gintoki murmurs, leaning over Zura and pulling his eyelids up.

“Hnnzzfx,” snorts Zura, flinching away and slapping at Gintoki’s hands. He rubs his eye, huffing sleepily. “Nm. Now I am. What?”

Gintoki frowns, suddenly unsure of what he’s spent all night doing. In the silence, Zura prompts, “What? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I don’t get nightmares,” he bites back. They both know it’s a lie, and Zura has an annoying penchant for the truth, so he powers on quickly. “I finished somethin’.”

There’s a crinkle of paper, and he shoves the parchment right in Zura’s face. “Shut up,” he says, even though Zura hasn't said anything. It's just, he feels like his throat wants to close up, and not let any more words come out, so this has to happen quickly.

“I can’t read it, it’s too dark.”

Gintoki gives a deadpan look at the candle he lit in the corner, and then back at Zura. After a moment, he reaches out, raking Zura’s long bangs back and holding them there. “Moron,” he snaps, while the taller boy blinks owlishly in the revealed light of the room.

“Oh.”

“Would you just read it already?”

“Alright. _Kinto -_ ”

“Not out loud!”

“Why not?”

This was a bad idea. His stomach’s in knots. Gintoki reaches out, trying to grab the paper back. “Forget it, oi, nevermind - ”

“Oh,” says Zura, eyes on the paper. The permed boy can see the other smiling in the dim light, and his stomach lurches in an entirely different direction. “I’m in it.”

With how long it took, the dumb poem is practically branded into Gintoki’s brain. He hears it in his head as Zura’s eyes flicker across the page a second time;

> _Kinto-un only_   
> _lets the best fly through the clouds  
>  like me and Zura._

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” corrects the boy. “But it wouldn’t have fit then.”

The correction, as always, is ignored. “S’better than Takasugi’s trash, huh?”

“His were all about flowers and trees, like Sensei’s examples.” Zura shrugs. “They fit well, but they were kind of girly.”

Gintoki snorts, feeling a rush of pride. Zura likes his better. He _knew_ Zura would like his better. “Tch, that asshole can’t write worth a crap.”

The dark haired boy doesn’t seem to be listening, and suddenly looks up with an expression of remembrance. “Oh. I forgot to show you. You’re in mine, too.”

“I am?” The strangeness in Gintoki’s belly comes back with a vengeance. It feels like maybe he’s hungry. He should sneak into the pantry and get some cookies. After this, anyway. “Lemme see it.”

“Ah, hold on...” The taller boy gets to his feet, padding carefully across the small room of sleeping would-be samurai to their personal shelves. He returns with his green workbook, opening it carefully on his lap. When he turns it around for Gintoki to see, he smiles, and Gintoki grins crookedly back. “Here.”

> _This is my haiku._   
> _I think I counted right, yes._   
> _Perms are really weird._


End file.
